


You Can't Take It With You

by LA_Peach



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Post-Apocalypse, Purgatory, Sad with a Happy Ending, Souls, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Peach/pseuds/LA_Peach
Summary: A woman wakes up in the bottom of a crater, seemingly of her own making. Everything is grey. She can't remember a single thing about herself, not even her own name. In fact, she can't seem to recall any names at all. The only thing she can do is follow the tugging in her heart that seems to be pulling her to the light on the horizon.





	You Can't Take It With You

**Author's Note:**

> My Patrons got to read this first. If you like what I do, well, I'll be writing more fan fics when I've reached my first goal. So maybe you can support me there if you like. www.patreon.com/la_peach (It is 18+ only)
> 
> Also I'm not great with tagging, if I've forgotten something important please, let me know.
> 
> EDIT: After some contemplation, I changed the archive warning to Major Character Death only because I don't want to take anybody by surprise. This is an AU. Things are different here. Azriel's death happens off screen and is actually quite important. This is the first instalment (I'd call it an episode) of a longer story that I intend to have a happy ending. Even Asriel will have a happy ending.

 

 

                Consciousness came slowly.

                She was aware of pain. Not terrible, but persistent and encompassing. Her whole body seemed to be lightly on fire. Her shoulders and knees ached, her throat was raw and scratchy, the palms of her hands scraped and burned as if she had fallen on them.

                Eventually the small pains became too many to count subconsciously and forced her to full wakefulness. She was on her stomach and when she forced her legs under her she dislodged mounds of grey dirt. It spilled around her, creating cloying little clouds of dust. She coughed.

                Sitting back on her heels she looked around. Her eyes felt gummy and she had trouble focusing. The light was diffused, like there was dust hanging in the atmosphere. Yet that same light hurt her and started a small headache in the back of her skull.

                A pit. It surrounded her, a crater filled with various bits of dirt and garbage and at the centre of it was her, as if she had landed there and made the crater herself. There was a tug in her chest; insistent, firm, and strange.  Ignoring it for now, she pulled herself out of the crater on stinging hands and knees.

                The view was not much different outside her own personal little hole. It was all grey. Grey rocks and pits spread out in all directions. In the distance she could see the grey peaks of grey mountains, around her were scattered various pieces of grey rubble. It seemed to her that she had landed in the middle of some town street. But it was obviously old. Street lights leaned at precarious angles, pavement lay about in patchy pieces and homes stood in dilapidated states, falling apart. None of it made any sense. The pieces of pavement didn’t lead anywhere. Besides the few houses there were no other buildings. It was as if the whole place had been lifted out of wherever it had been and simply… dropped here.

                A wind picked up, scattering grey dust into her face. It picked up, driving dirt into her face and stinging her many cuts, so she stumbled into the open doorway of the closest home and leaned against the wall just inside. The wind began to howl, the whole house shook violently. She hugged her knees close to her chest and waited for it to pass. It was terrifying the way the whole place darkened  and shook, the sound of sand hitting the wall just behind her back made her shiver and fear that it would peel back the very wood itself, exposing her. When it finally stopped, there was a new layer of grey dust over everything. She looked up through a hole in the ceiling, but could see nothing more than a clear, grey sky.

                She took stock of herself then. She didn’t have much on her. Faded blue jeans, battered sneakers, a black t-shirt with a single red heart in its centre, cracked and crinkled like it was a much worn shirt. She didn’t recognise it. Come to think of it, she didn’t recognise any of her clothes. She put her hands in her hair and clamped her eyes shut.

                Her name, her past, she could remember nothing before the pain in the pit. Tears welled up and spilled over, tracking lines through the dust on her face. It was stupid, it was horribly cliché, and yet it was so terribly horrifying. Unable to recall even the simplest detail about herself was so very wrong. Books, movies, video games… characters that had lost their memories walked around him a happy stupor, but that wasn’t _right_. Everything about herself, everything that made her well _her,_ was simply gone. It should be there, but it wasn’t.

                In vain she tried to think of names that could belong to her but, even those were lost. Not a single name could come to mind. She cried then. Big tears that rolled down her cheeks and made her sputter a cough and hiccup.

                The tug again.

                She couldn’t ignore it. She was hungry, she was thirsty and she hurt all over. She couldn’t stay here. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she stood. Rooting around the room she found a small backpack. She wondered if she had been the type of person who would take someone else’s belongings like this but ultimately decided that right now, it hardly mattered.

                The pack was empty save for a ragged throw blanket. Digging through what was once a kitchen she found a bag of what she assumed was some sort of biscuit and a thin plastic bottle of what she hoped was water (it appeared grey inside…). Both of the items she found had writing on them, the letters appeared to be English, but they weren’t arranged in any words she knew. She blinked and tried to read them again to similar results. She shoved them in the little pack, shouldered it and walked back out the door.

                Because it made just as much sense as anything else, she took off in the direction of the strange tugging she felt in her chest and hoped it wasn’t a prelude to a heart condition.

 

…

 

                She walked. And she walked. The scenery didn’t change much. Occasionally she came across other pits like the one she had crawled out of. She felt compelled to check them. Most were empty but sometimes there was a body there. As she shook one hoping to wake it and the dirt rolled off of it, she sat back, stunned. It was not human. She could not understand why the sight of it filled her with dread and set the tears running again. She moved on but continued to check the pits she came across, trying her best not to cry. She couldn’t afford to cry over every body she found. Her water bottle (which tasted dusty) was already half gone.

                Around midday and after countless empty craters and what she had now come to think of as graves, she ran into her first live human.

                At first she was ecstatic. She couldn’t tell their gender. They were covered in dust, much like she was. She waved, and shouted a hoarse shout. The person cowered and ran from her. She didn’t pursue, she didn’t have the energy. The smile faded from her face. Maybe they didn’t understand her. Maybe they spoke the langue that was on her meagre food rations. She could understand being scared of her, she supposed.

                Trying not to let it bother her, she carried on. A few hours later she descended a particularly deep pit. She already knew the person in the bottom was probably dead, but she couldn’t pass by. She had to check, just in case. The pit was larger than the rest because the body in the bottom seemed particularly large. It was too big for her to roll over (all of the bodies had so far been face down, like she had been) but she took a look at its face anyway.

                It was a monster, for lack of a better word. It was doglike, but larger than any dog she had ever encountered. Its fur was grey, although it was possible that once it had been a lovely white. It wore armour, like a knight. She sighed, laid its head back down gently, and began to claw her way back out of the pit.

                Her hand sunk downward into sand and slipped. She dislodged grit and pebbles as she tried to dig in her heels and stop herself from sliding back downwards. But as she slid more grit followed her down, including a few large rocks. A loud gasp escaped her as she slammed back down against the body and the rocks landed all around her. She struggled to get up again, panicked as loose dirt filled the crater. Her panic only made it worse, she sunk deeper. As it all settled, she found she was pinned from the waist down by loose grit, a large, heavy stone pinning on foot against the body now covered as well.

                She tried to wrench herself free but only felt a horrible pain as she twisted her foot. She roared, her voice carrying out over the grey ground for miles in the quiet atmosphere. She collapsed, weeping desperately. She knew real fear then as the enormity of the situation hit her. If she couldn’t get out, she would die along with the monster in the bottom of the pit.

                A noise sounded above her and she stopped, hopeful. The genderless face appeared over the top of the crater. They had followed her.

                “Please,” she said, her voice rough with disuse, “help me!”

                They said nothing but crawled downward on hands and knees like an animal, pushing sand and dirt ahead of them and into her face. She closed her eyes against it, spitting out what got into her mouth. They grabbed hold of her arms and tugged. “Wait, wait! My foot is caught on… HEY!” She had mistaken their actions as helpful; instead it seemed they had simply been rearranging her arms, because in the next moment they had slid the small pack off her back, wrenched it free of her arms and began scrambling back up the incline. In their haste, more dirt slid into her face, burying her even further. A sharp stone caught her in the forehead, blood fresh and red poured down her face, into her eyes and mouth.

                By the time she had blinked her vision clear, the stranger was gone with her things. She held a hand to her head, trying to stop the flow of blood. Tears mingled, her nose ran, she tried to stop it, knowing she had precious little liquids left in her as it was… but she couldn’t.

                Finally, as the weak sun began to set and cover the land in a poor excuse of twilight, she found herself cried out. The blood had finally stopped, she could feel it crusting on her cheeks. She didn’t have the strength to try to wipe it away.

                Her heart tugged again. But, unable to follow it, exhausted and weary, she fell into a painful sleep.

 

…

 

                Dreams filled her. Fever dreams of faces and voices and happier times, but when she woke she could remember nothing. Her head hurt, she sniffled, and looked around for the noise that had woken her. It was dark. Very, very dark. She almost couldn’t tell the different between the ground and the sky, there were no stars in it to shed any light on her.

                No, that wasn’t right. There were two stars sitting just on the edge of the horizon. As she tried to shift and recalled that she was indeed stuck pretty firmly in the pit, the stars blinked. She gasped and stopped moving, except for her shivers, which she couldn’t stop.

                Her eyes adjusted, the stars above provided a little light, until she could make out a stark white face in the darkness, peering down at her from atop the crater. They looked at each other for a long time. She was afraid, she couldn’t speak. Whatever it was up above her, it wasn’t human. If she wasn’t hallucinating, she was pretty sure a skull was looking at her. She could see the teeth now. It was fixed in a strange, permanent grin, but it looked anything but happy.

                It spoke. Its voice was deep, but rusty like hers had been. “Hmphf. Human.” It got up and staggered away.

                Suddenly more afraid of it leaving her than hurting her, she whispered “wait…” tears welling up again. Then, more desperate and loud, “Wait!” Her breath hurt in her chest, constricted from the dirt surrounding her. “Wait! Please, please don’t go!”

                There was no answer, the stars didn’t appear again. She cried pitifully, even knowing her weeping could be heard over the still ground, knew it could draw in more people like the awful human who had left her there and taken her pack, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t be left alone like this. She couldn’t get back to slope and she had nothing left to do but wait and watch and maybe try to dig herself out. She succeeded a little but as she built up small piles of sand around her, they crumbled and filled back in. Chocking on the sand, trying desperately to make sort of progress, she tried again, her weak arms making no real progress.

                The sun began to rise. She gave up, and rested her head against the dirt. This was it; she really could do no more for herself. Despair covered her like a blanket.

                “I’m such a fool,” said the deep voice above her, “coming all the way back here.” She looked up; the stars had come back, although they didn’t glow so much in the early morning light. She said nothing as it slid down into the pit, trying not to knock more grit into her face. “All for a,” grunt “lousy human.” He was mumbling to himself, not happy apparently with his choice to come back.

                He grabbed one of her arms and tugged experimentally. There wasn’t much force behind it. He was fairly short, only reaching chest high to her if she’d been standing and she wasn’t a tall woman. He wore black sport shorts, a dirty white t-shirt under a hooded sweater that had once been blue, but one half of it was so covered in old, dried blood that it was almost black. He pulled on her again, a little harder this time. She felt herself move. The stone on her foot had somehow shifted through the night. If they pulled hard enough she might be able to claw herself free.

                “Give me your other hand,” she pleaded.

                He ignored her. Digging in his heels , gritting his teeth, he pulled on her with all his might. He was obviously weakened, he probably hadn’t had much to eat in this place. If he was lucky, like she had been when she first woke up, he’d have found some food. If he wasn’t well, he might have had nothing at all.

                She felt herself shift, but it wasn’t enough. He dropped down in front of her, exhausted. He dropped his head into his hand, trying to shake off the fatigue. “I… I can’t…”

                A deep breath steadied her nerves. “Hey, it’s okay.” This was too much for him; she couldn’t ask him to spend all of this energy on her. “Look you… you should probably head on. Thanks for trying to get me out but… just leave me.” She was surprised at herself. It hadn’t been that hard to say. In this place, death seemed so… easy.

                He groped at his almost black sleeve. He sighed and stood. She was certain he was going to leave and she resigned herself to trying to dig herself out again. But he didn’t leave. Instead he very deliberately set his feet should width apart, digging them in a bit so he had a solid stance. She couldn’t even begin to guess what he was doing. He scrunched his eyes closed, bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, building up some energy. He took a few deep breaths, thrust his hand out in front of himself, curled his fingers into a claw and… pulled… his hand upwards as if he had hold of something large and heavy.

                The tug in her heart grew. It was almost painful, she gasped and threw her head back as it seemed to try to leap out of her chest. His hand shook, sweat rolled down his head. She felt her whole body shift. He grunted, made a final gesture up wards and…

                She popped out of the ground, screamed as her foot tore past the rock holding it down. The two of them collapsed, but their actions had started something of a chain reaction. The pit was filling in. Holding each other, supporting each other, they crawled their way out of the crater. She yelled with every step, but largely ignored the pain in her foot. She had no choice; she wasn’t going to be covered in dirt again.

                Finally, they were free and they fell to the hard, grey ground panting, a tangle of limbs and dirty clothes. She breathed great gulps of the stale air, glad to expand her chest to its full capacity. The figure beside her wasn’t moving much. He was tired; he had expended a lot of energy to get her out.

                “Well,” he whispered to no one in particular. “That was fun. We’ll die now.”

                “No,” she responded and he turned his head to look at her. “No, not yet we won’t.” She stood on shaky feet, her ankle throbbed but she didn’t complain. She picked her saviour up, he was much too short for her to sling his arm over her shoulder, so she wrapped it as best she could around her waist, telling him to grab hold of her shirt if he could.

                She realised now why he had only used one arm to try to pull her out of the pit. He only _had_ one arm. The other seemed to have been pulled off, judging by the black, bloody stains down his sweater. Now that she looked at him, she realised that he must be one of the monsters like she had seen in the craters. He was literally all bones, a walking skeleton. She tried not to think about how a skeleton could bleed, the stains stretched out across his t-shirt, up and down his leg bones and stained the tips of his fingers were he had obviously tried to stem the flow with his own hand.

                He was in a pretty sorry state and had risked his life to get her out. And, taking into account how the human from before had treated her, he had obviously gone through some personal struggle to help a species that might try to kill him as soon as he saved her.

                They walked through the day, finding strength reserves that they didn’t know they had, saying little and moving slow. He was lighter than she expected, which was good because he leaned on her a lot. They encountered a few more humans that day, but hid behind large boulders or in shallow craters until they were out of sight. Neither of them wanted to risk another encounter.

                As the sun was nearing the horizon and neither was very sure that they’d be able to carry on much further, they crested a small hill to find a smattering of cracked pavement and crumbling homes. For a moment, she feared that they had circled back to her starting point. But no, this place was different, a bit smaller. They stumbled into one of the homes, glad for a bit of shelter. It was in decent shape. The couch was only missing one leg.

                They crawled onto it, held on close to each other for warmth, and promptly fell asleep.

                She woke a few hours later, just as that awful twilight began to stretch across the grey world. She felt that tug on her heart again too, this time maybe just a little stronger than it used to be. She ignored it for now. As the skeleton monster continued to sleep, she searched the home for something to eat. The cupboards had been raided some time ago, but miraculously she found a tin of something behind an untouched sack of flour (flour wasn’t much good on its own, she supposed.)  The label on it was torn and faded beyond recognition. But chances were it was food, at least.

                She scrounged around and found an old pot, tore an element from the collapsing stove, and with some questionable matches she went back to the room with the couch. The monster was waking, and watched her a bit wearily as she started a small fire with bits of garbage in the pot, setting the element on top of it and the can on top of that.

                “How’r ya gonna open the can?” He asked from the couch.

                She held up a Swiss army knife, rusted and dirty looking. Black, smelly smoke rose from the fire. They both ignored it, watching the can as it heated. She poked at the can with the knife; it gave way under its pressure. She poked again and again until she had punctured a wide enough hole for them to eat out of.  She held out an old spoon towards the monster.

                He looked at it, then at her, then shaking his head, slid off the couch and took the spoon. He dipped it in the can, his arm trembling weakly and took a bite. “Ugh,” he said, “Lima beans.” He handed her the spoon and she took a spoonful for herself. They tasted amazing to her.

                “What I’d do for a burger right now.”

                She smiled and then frowned. He frowned too, seeing her reaction. “Burger.” She murmured. “Do… do you remember… things?”

                He must have realised what he said. She knew what a burger was… now. She remembered how a burger tasted. But… she couldn’t ever remember eating one, or anything for that matter. She couldn’t remember anything from before the pit.

                “No… I don’t remember. I don’t remember…anything. At all.”

                “Then how do you know what a burger is?”

                “I… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking I guess. “

                “Do you remember… your name?”

                He looked at her a long time. They passed the spoon back and forth, eating the somewhat warm lima beans. He came to some conclusion. She did too. She didn’t know this monster, but she trusted him. How could she not? He pulled her out of the pit; they had carried each other across the grey dirt for the better part of a day. They were in this together now, even if they were a human and a monster.

                “No. I don’t remember my name.”

                “Yeah. Me neither.”

                “I remember what a human is though.” He scratched his skull. “I think I’ve had run ins with humans before.”

                “You and me both,” and she told him the story of the person who had taken her pack and left her in the pit. She told him too of the dog like monster at the bottom of the pit.

                “I feel like… like I should know…”

                “Know what?”  
                He shrugged. “I don’t. Know that is. I feel like I should know all of these things. But, there’s nothing there.” As they talked, their voices seemed to get a bit les gravely. She was in a lot of pain all over her body but, in his company they didn’t seem so bad.

                “Hey,” she asked, chewing lima beans that were probably long expired, “Do you feel that tugging?”

                “Tugging?”

                “Yeah, right… here.” She tapped her chest. “It’s tugging me…”

                “In what direction?”

                She thought about that a moment. “North, I think.”

                He shrugged. “Come to think of it, all of you humans have been heading in the same direction. Maybe it’s something just humans can feel.”

                “So… what’s it pulling me towards?”

                “I guess we’ll find out, eventually.”

                After they ate and she put the fire out in the pot, he inspected her ankle. He said it didn’t look broken, just twisted. She offered to look at his arm but he said it wasn’t necessary. It was as healed as it was going to get. They decided to try to get some more sleep and start travelling again in the morning. They even set a watch, she’d keep a look out while he slept for a while, then they’d switch. It didn’t work out though. Belly not even close to full but happy, when she heard they monster taking deep, even breaths she too drifted off to sleep. So she didn’t hear the snuffling outside the home, the click clicking of long nails on wood.

                The next morning they both woke as the weak sunlight hit their eyes through the holes in the ceiling. They laughed the whole thing off, vowed to do better the next night. They packed their makeshift fireplace into a blanket, hobo style, along with a few other things they found around the house, attached that to an old broom handle, and headed out into the grey dawn.

                “Hey, I remembered something.”

                She stopped to looked at him, he was holding his one hand out to her in greeting. “Nice to meet you,” he grinned, “I’m Sans.”

 

…

 

                The next few days were uneventful and Sans commented that it was rather pleasant to not have to either run for his life or try to pull a human out of a pit. She smacked him on his good shoulder. They chatted to pass the time when they could, but they couldn’t remember much to talk about. Sans recalling his name seemed nothing short of a miracle, and he said he felt more like himself now, even if he wasn’t entirely sure who himself was.

                After a while, they decided she needed a name. Sans couldn’t keep calling her “Hey.” He threw some females names out there but she didn’t really like any of them, certainly didn’t feel like a Jessica or a Sandy. To be honest, she was astounded that he could remember names at all. She herself couldn’t think of any beyond the ones Sans was suggesting.

                “Toriel?” He suggested.

                “Toriel? That’s not a human female name. At least, not one I’ve ever heard.” She scratched her head. “I guess that’s not saying much.”

                “No? Hmm.” He tapped a finger against his teeth. “Fran?”

                She stopped and tilted her head, looking up into the empty sky. “Did I hit the mark?” he asked, but when she didn’t answer, he followed her gaze. There were clouds on the horizon. They had been walking for days, following the tug in her chest. Even from the moment she had woken in her pit, there had never been clouds in the sky.

                They were rolling and boiling, awful looking angry clouds. They could see a flash or two of lightening. “Gotta find shelter,” she murmured. Sans nodded, looking concerned as they could see the storm creeping closer to them. Rain, hard and cruel, swept swaths of dust and dirt before it like a leaf blower. She grabbed Sans’ hand, and together they began to run.

                How on earth the storm could be coming for them so swiftly, she could only guess. But soon they could hear it, wind and rain and thunderous booms followed on their heels. They headed for the only thing they could see that wasn’t more rocks and dirt. Only a shadowy smudge against the horizon, it turned out to be the stump of an old tree. It was hollow.

                Rain began to pelt them, soaking through their clothes, stinging their scalps. They crowded inside the small space, shoving their blanket in the entrance to try to keep out the rain. It worked for the most part, but water soon began to seep in under it. The stump was bigger than she thought, but smaller than was comfortable.

                They squished up against each other. If she had been any larger or if Sans had had two arms, they wouldn’t have been able to fit. She closed her eyes and hoped the stump didn’t get hit by lightning. They listened to the rain hitting the old, dry wood. It wasn’t waterproof. It began to drip on them. Water pooled at their feet where the soaked hobo blanket could no longer keep it out. Neither complained, they could both hear the noise the rain was making, both were glad they weren’t out in it.

                As she watched water drip from their meagre possessions, she lamented the now ruined matches inside. Sighing, she undid the knot, grabbed the pot, and stuck it outside. It filled in moments. It tasted like ash, but they drank. They drank as much as their stomachs could handle. And when they were done, and the rain had slacked off to only a half torrent, they resigned themselves to waiting it out, even if their feet were soaking through and the ground beneath them was slowly turning to mud.

                The issue of her name forgotten, they once again fell into a fevered dream sleep.

                She awake this time to Sans nudging her. “Hey,” he mumbled still in a half sleep. “Stop crying. It’s not so bad.” His voice was gentle, but firm. Even so, she was confused.

                “I’m not crying.”

                “It’s okay, I guess. Strange place, strange people… monsters… “

                “Sans, I’m not crying.”

                He blinked his eyes open, and light from his sockets flooded over her. He could definitely tell she hadn’t been crying. There were still tear tracks and dried blood on her face, but no fresh tears. Rain still pounded their little stump, they had sunk into the soft mud. Their clothes were almost completely soaked through. “Then what did I…”

                There it came, a voice out in the rain. It did sound like a woman crying. It seemed to come closer and they held each other tight, listening to the sound. Above the thunder they could hear the _pound pound_ of heavy footsteps then, softer and behind it, the splashing of something following the voice.

                The rain let up to a heavy drizzle and they distinctly heard a woman scream. Without thinking, without any care for herself, she scrambled out of the hollow tree stump, her feet slipping in the mud. “Hey! Wait!” Sans called after her, following after extracting himself out of the mud.

                She ran as fast as she could, following the scream she had heard. It was in the opposite direction than they’d been travelling, opposite the tug. Footprints, large ones, trailed off into the rainy night. She could hear Sans puffing behind her, trying to catch up. She didn’t care, she could help… she could…

                It wasn’t just the large, bear-like footprints in the mud before her. Sans’ eyes lit up the ground in front of them, shining off of prints that were large and canine, cruel claws marking deep pits where they speared the soft grey earth.

                A cliff face began to loom in front of them. The sky continued to pour down, but it was getting lighter, they could see in front of them now. A pack of wolves, grey like the dirt, had something pinned against the cliff face.

                A woman stood there, drenched to the bone, her bare feet coated in mud. Her hands were held out before her, small puffs of flame coming to life and then sputtering and hissing out as the rain snuffed it again. But she kept trying, the wisps of smoke becoming smaller and smaller as she quickly began to run through what little energy she had

                The wolves were enormous (and this was not a small woman in comparison either.) But something was wrong with them. They were grotesquely misshapen, jaws longer than they should have been, teeth broken and crooked. Three eyes from each head stared at their prey intently, ignoring the human and small monster running towards them. Perhaps they weren’t afraid. Two wolves closed in on the woman, one turned towards her.

                Its gaze was cruel like its teeth; it seemed to grin at her. She watched as the other two leapt at the woman, they bit her, but didn’t pull any flesh from her. Instead, something bright red and heart shaped was wrenched from her chest. She screamed and her body collapsed to the ground.

                “Shit, shit!” screamed Sans, still a bit behind her. “They took her fuckin’ soul! They just TOOK it!” Something blue blazed above his hand. A bone materialised, one edge sharp, and with a gesture he sent it flashing towards the wolves. It passed right through them and seemed to not hurt them at all. They were fighting over the heart, each one trying to eat it.

                The wolf looking towards her crouched and leapt, aiming for her chest as the others had with the woman. She felt another tug on her heart, this one painful and forceful, almost the same as when Sans had pulled her from the pit. But this was primal, almost mindless. It wasn’t thinking about what it was doing, it was just hungry.

                She roared. No one was taking her damned soul! Time slowed, light flooded the ground, blinding the grey wolves. They dropped the woman’s heart, turned towards her. The wolf in front of her, leaping for her disintegrated as a white fiery sword passed through it. It shrivelled into dust with barely a howl, the rain driving its fragmented body into the ground to mingle with the rest of the grey mud.

                Hardly even knowing what she was doing, swinging for all she was worth, she advanced on the other two wolves. They didn’t back down, but they did not last long against her. Her sword passed through them like they were tissue paper. Their bodies crumbled into dirt and became indistinguishable from the ground. The wolves were gone and as she watched it, mesmerized, her sword fizzled out, the bright light form her chest dimmed until there was nothing left of that either. She tried to bring them back but, whatever it had been, the light and the sword were gone.

                Sans kneeled in the mud. “Hey!” He called to her. “Come, help me!”

                She dashed over. He held the heart in his hand, it beat faintly but seemed to be struggling to do so. The woman sprawled in the mud wasn’t moving. Her own heart felt heavy. The woman had been through a lot recently it seemed. She wore nothing but the frayed remains of a purple dress, knotted at the hip where it had torn. Her white fur, somehow clean from the grey dirty and mud that covered the rest of them, gave way here and there to angry red lacerations. She was heavy, but bore signs of having lost a lot of weight very recently. Her face was goat-like, little horns poking up from the top of her head. One of her ears had been slit straight up the middle, almost all the way to the base. Thick black thread closed the wounds… she must have sown them closed herself, but flakes of dried blood still clung to it.

                “Here, here.” Sans said, his voice somewhat panicked. “Come on, she’s gonna die!”

                “I don’t know what you want me to do!”

                “Here, take the soul with me. You can do it, come on. Like when I pulled you out of the pit? Concentrate on it. Feel it beating? It wants to work with you. It WANTS to go back to its body.” The rain stopped, but desperate little tears trailed down Sans’ cheek bones. They each held the soul, she could feel it, even if she closed her eyes. If she wanted, she could probably have taken the soul into her own, held it in her own body. She could… she knew she could somehow. Instead she… tugged it. Tugged the way she felt her own heart trying to tug her northward, to the thing that waited for her.

                They pressed the soul close to the body. After a moment, it seemed to recognise its own vessel and slipped back inside the woman’s chest. She drew a deep shuddering breath, looked them straight in the eyes, and scoffed. “You should have just let me die.”

 

…

 

                Sans looked hurt, he tried to wipe the tears from his face. But the woman looked so much more so. She had felt it, the soul… it was weak. Maybe that’s how the wolves had pulled it out of her so easily. They helped her up and while she didn’t say anything more she also followed where they led, finding a low bit of stone that had crumbled away from the cliff. The woman sat, and stared at her feet.

                “Do… you remember your name?” Sans’ asked.

                The woman fingered a sheet that had been tied around one shoulder, a bulge in the back of it indicated that she was carrying something. It was small though and she thought that looked a lot like…

                “No. I don’t remember my name. What’s it matter? You should have left me for the wolves.”

                “You can’t say that… we… we saved you.” Sans’ voice was trembling. She grabbed him by his good arm, and pulled him some distance away. The woman ignored them, pulling the little bundle on her to her front and stroking it.

                “Sans, what’s wrong with you? You’ve seen dead and dying monsters out here before.”

                He was shaking. “I know I… I can’t explain it I…” Tears welled up in his sockets again. “But when I touched her soul…”

                “She was going to die. And that… hurt you, didn’t it?”

                He nodded. Tapping his chest. “It hurt your soul?”

                Biting her lip, watching as the strange goat monster hugged the bundle to herself and she finally recognised what sort of shape the bundle actually was.

                “Sans, I think it hurt because… Your soul recognises her.”

                “Eh?”

                “Think about it. You don’t remember anything up here, right?” She tapped his skull.

                “Quit it.” He swatted her.

                “When we first met, you were going to leave me because I was human.”

                “Yeah.”

                “And you came because I was crying, and that moved your soul.”

                “No.”

                “No?”

                “I came back because… I… judged you.”

                “What does that mean?”

                “I… I dunno I…” he tapped his chest again. “My soul said yours was… okay.”

                “And what’s it say about her?”

                He looked at the goat woman again, and she could see the wheels turning. One of his eyes flashed blue and yellow, like he was trying to do something. “I dunno, she won’t let me in.”

                “When you touched her soul before, you got a glimpse of who she was. And you’ve done that before.”

                “Maybe.”

                “Okay, do me then.”

                “Eh?”

                She took his hand, kneeled in front of him, and closed her eyes. “I’ll let you in. You said I let you in once before back at the pit. I didn’t know what I was doing then. I think I understand a bit more now.”

                She felt more than saw his eyes flash again, but she felt no extra tug on her soul. He wasn’t trying to move it or take it away from her, he was just reading it, like a book. He shook his head. “There’s a lot in there. Mostly feelings.” He tried to pull away, but she held him there. She concentrated, brought all of her thoughts into one clear purpose.

                When he sniffled, she let him go, and let him wipe away his tears without commenting.

                “I uh, I got your name.”

                “What is it?”

                “Frisk.”

                She chuckled. “Yeah. That feels right.” She couldn’t explain how _right_ that name felt. How she should have known it all along.

                When they turned back to the goat woman, she had gone.

 

…

 

                She hadn’t gone far. They tracked her footprints through the quickly drying mud. She was slow and limping and most likely exhausted. Frisk caught up to her, Sans held back a bit, trying not to spook the woman and getting his emotions under control.

                “Hey, ma’am. Where are you going?”

                “Just leave me alone. I’m finding a quite hole to die in.”

                “But we just saved your life.”

                “So the wolves can get my soul another night. Whoopee.”

                She was being rude, but Frisk looked past that. Given all that the woman had been through, she was allowed to be a little rude.

                “Okay, so you don’t care about your own soul. But what about your child’s?”

                The goat monster stopped. “How do you…”

                “I’m a smart cookie. I’ve seen the way you’ve held that bundle on your back.” Tears welled in her eyes, and her lip trembled. The woman straightened, holding her fists at her sides.

                “Don’t joke. My son is dead. How dare you taunt a grieving mother,” Her fists shook, her voice squeaked. “I don’t care if you drove off those soul-eating wolves, there is nothing you can do to… to…” Hot tears finally spilled down her cheeks, she collapsed to her knees.

                “What do you know?!” She screamed at Frisk. Sans clenched and unclenched his hand, trying hard not to rush in and comfort her. “He’s gone! All I have is… is his body… and I can’t even remember his name!” she wailed.

                Frisk kneeled down and slid into the woman’s grasp, hugging her. The woman gripped her tightly, unconsciously weeping into her hair. How long had she been strong for? Trying to keep herself together, feeling so much guilt that she was living while her son had perished in this awful place. “I just want to… I want to bury him someplace nice. I tried to… I tried to give him _my_ soul, but he… he wouldn’t take it.” Frisk decided not to ask her just then what that meant. There was a lot going on right now, a lot that she didn’t understand. In time, they would figure all of this out.

                Frisk stroked her back and the woman clung to her a little harder. “I’m not going to tell you that it’s okay. I’m not going to tell you that it will be worth it in the end. All I’m going to say is that your son would have wanted you to live on.”

                She hiccuped. “How can I remember him, when his name escapes me? What kind of a mother am I?” She trembled, she hated herself.

                “I have a friend, you remember him?” She pointed to Sans. “He helped me save you last night. If you let him in, he might be able to find your son’s name.”

                “Let him in?”

                “Open up your soul to him. He can read it, kind of. He found his name, and mine too.”

                “You’re lying.”

                “I bet that you’ve come across some really awful humans while you’ve been out here. Maybe they tried to hurt you. Make they took your things. Maybe they even hurt your son. But look at me. I didn’t help you then to hurt you now.” She held the woman’s hands.

                “Look at us. A human and a monster. We’ve survived a lot out here and we have no idea what’s going on. This place is _weird_. But if you let us, we’ll help you. We can help each other.” Frisk looked into her large, soulful eyes.  The woman had so much love to give, all she needed was something to hold onto.

                “Okay. Please, sir,” she said, looking up at Sans. “Can you find my son’s name?”

                “I… I’m gonna try.”

                Frisk stood and whispered to Sans. “Keep it together, okay? You know this woman. She doesn’t know you. Don’t break her by trying to force her to remember something, okay?”

                “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

                He took Frisk’s place in front of the grieving mother. To his surprise, she leaned in and hugged him close, so their chests were touching. Maybe on some level, she remembered him too, she just wasn’t aware of it. As silent tears ran down her face and onto his shoulders they closed their eyes.

                Frisk watched as they both glowed, light spilling from their chests like hers did when the strange sword materialised. They hugged for a long time, far longer than when Sans had read her soul. She smiled to herself. There was a good chance that the long hug wasn’t entirely necessary.

                The sun, though weak, became uncomfortably warm. There’s clothes were trying and becoming scratchy, the mud was caking off of their feet. Finally Sans broke free, helped to pull the woman to stand. She was much taller than him. Frisk felt her heart lurch. They looked good together, like they fit.

                Her tears had dried.

                “Toriel. Your name is Toriel.”

                She nodded, like she should have known that. “And my son?”

                Sans smiled up at her. “Asriel. Your son’s name is Asriel.”

                Frisk didn’t bring it up. Toriel was one of the names Sans had suggested back before the storm hit them.

 

…

 

                After more tears and much hugging they got on their way, following the tug in Frisk’s heart. Toriel didn’t question it, she said one direction was as good as any other. She showed them how she had been living for so long, using her claws to dig up hard roots in the ground. They tasted dusty like everything else did, but they were enough to sustain them and after a while they got used to the signs that said there were roots in the ground. Patches of dirt that looked sliiiightly more hydrated than the rest of the earth around it. They used their pot and Toriel’s flames too cook them. A few days later they stumbled across a river, heading the same direction as them and they used its water to boil the roots, softening them up and making them easier to eat (although it did NOT improve the flavour.)

                As they followed the river they found a patch of grey-green grass speckled with little yellow flowers. They spent a few days here resting, before Toriel asked for help in burying her son. They dug a grave; a place surrounded by the grass and flowers and laid the child and his little shroud in it. Toriel cried over the grave for a time, Sans held respectfully back before she reached out to him and held his hand for a while.

                When the two slept that night, Frisk dutifully watched out for other people or more wolves. She thought she saw a shadow moving further upriver the way they had come, and suspected that a human might be following them. Unless they made a move though, she had no qualms with them. Finally, she realised later that the tug on her heart had grown stronger, but it wasn’t pointing north like usual.

                Learning to trust what her soul was telling her she followed it to Asriel’s grave. Holding out her hand to the freshly turned earth, she only had to concentrate slightly before a tiny soul popped out of the earth. That’s so strange. She assumed the soul had passed on, that’s what they do when the body dies, right?

                But there it was, in her hand, small and child-like. She thought back to the bodies she had seen in the pits since the start of her journey. None of them had decayed; she simply assumed that they were freshly dead. But Asriel’s body hadn’t even smelled, And Toriel had apparently been carry him around for days. If she thought about it, she had never come across something rotten. The flour in the kitchen had been fine, the lima beans too. Even things in cans didn’t last forever. Frisk could make no sense of any of it.

                “Hey there, little guy. Don’t worry. I won’t let the weird wolves get you. But… I’m gonna keep you secret, okay? Until I know what’s going on, I don’t want to hurt your mom.” The soul seemed to flash in agreement. She held him up to her own chest and the soul slipped inside of her. She felt it sort of cuddle up to her own and get comfortable.

                They travelled like this for weeks, walking during the day, taking turns watching by night. Once, Sans woke them hurriedly and they ran out into the grey night, hardly able to see where they were going, wolf howls following them. They took a stand against them three days later, putting their backs up against an old, crumbling wall (the rest of the building was nowhere in sight.)

                Sans’ bones went right through the wolves without hurting them. Toriel’s flames kept them at bay. But Frisks strange sword… sliced through them like butter. Sans tried to question her about it, but she had no answers. The sword came easily to her when the wolves were around but try ad she might, she couldn’t summon it outside of battle.

                Some days later they were lucky to find a cellar in the middle of nowhere filled with canned peaches, so they gorged themselves on the delicious fruit as another storm raged over head, leaking through the cellar door and getting their feet wet. The noise overhead as awful, but they passed their one spoon back and forth and tried to not let it bother them too much. Toriel found a small sack of seeds in among the cans. They had no idea what they were but she tucked them safely away anyway. They could come in handy further down the road.

                As they continued to make their way north (the human still following behind them as far as Frisk could tell) the area around them became a bit more bountiful. While it was far from lush, they came across the occasional tree that wasn’t dead; shrubs had leaves on them and Sans swore up and down that he saw a bird.

                They had gotten pretty used to each other too, cuddling together for warmth at night, helping each other when they stumbled through the day. They were like a little family and even joked from time to time. They were far from living large, sometimes they went days without finding food. But there was always some roots in the ground somewhere and every dilapidated house seemed to have one can of something left in its cupboards.

                Sans was trying but largely not succeeding in keeping his distance from Toriel. Frisk was concerned, but she couldn’t bring herself to come between the skeleton and the still fragile goat mom. He smiled when she smiled and when she joked, he laughed. She lamented over his lost arm and he just said “I gotta HAND it to you, this ain’t easy.” And Toriel laughed so loudly, they spent the next three days dodging wolf attacks.

                But he seemed addicted to her soul. She caught them hugging more than once, Sans trembling, trying to keep from reading her soul… trying to keep himself from the delicious memories her soul offered.

                Frisk asked him about it outright. “You ah, saw that, eh?” She nodded.

                “Look I haven’t… read her again.” He sighed, running his hand over his skull. “But I can feel them there, her memories, just under the surface.” She asked what made her soul so alluring compared to his own or Frisks. He shrugged. “My soul just… wants hers. It wants to be close it… it wants to be remembered. And she REMEMBERS me, Frisk.” He looked at her desperately. “I’m IN there. And it feels… so GOOD.”

                Frisk hugged him and he hugged her back. “Sans as far as we know, we’re stuck here. Unless she asks… then she’s not ready. Okay?”

                “Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

                “Do you… want to read mine?”

                He reached out to her but pulled away quickly. “No. No that doesn’t feel right, either.” She smiled at him.          

                Months passed. They travelled. They came across fewer and fewer craters, but they checked them all just the same. If they found a body at all, it was always a monster’s. And Frisk felt a strange throbbing from Asriel in her chest. But not sure what that meant, she continued on.

                Toriel asked Frisk if she thought it was possible to get more memories out of her soul. Frisk merely shrugged, told her she’d have to ask Sans. Toriel blushed and Frisk didn’t hear much on the matter for a long time after that.

                After nearly a year of the three of them travelling together, two strange things happened. At night, Frisk noticed a glow on the horizon, a pillar of light shooting into the sky. She thought she could see it pulsing and the tug on her heart pulled harder with every pulse. Whatever they were moving towards… that’s what it was.

                Then second, just as the sun was going down as they passed through some ruins that looked like an old castle, with crumbling pillars and archways; they heard a loud and rather confident voice.

                “HALT, POTENTIAL FOES!”

                And they did, because who addresses anyone as a potential foe? The voice reverberated off of the stone, making it difficult to pinpoint. “MANY A HUMAN HAS PASSED THROUGH MY RUINS, BUT ONLY IF YOU CAN SOLVE MY PUZZLE!”

                Frisk looked down. A series of squares had been scratched into the stones and dirt. There were arrows and numbers too, but none of it made any sense to her. Not sure what to do, they walked on, passing under a particular large and intact arch.

                “Aw.” Said the voice, defeated. “How come no one ever does my puzzle?”

                “It’s cause no one cares, dingus.”

                “That’s not my name.”

                “Yeah? Then what is it? Remember it and I’ll call you that, dingus.”

                “Well what if I called you something insulting, like… eyepatch!”

                “Pfft, go for it. Anything’s better than ‘ma’am.’ I’m not a lady.”

                As they passed through the arch, they found two monsters. The two had been here for a while apparently, judging from the bits of debris scattered around. A small fire pit, a couple of ragged blankets and a teddy bear with a missing arm (of all things.)

                One monster, blue skinned, red haired and all teeth, did indeed have an eye patch and held a long, primitive looking spear. The other was a rather tall skeleton, holding an orange bone across his shoulders like a club. When they made eye contact, the bone disappeared and he pointed at them.

                “Ah ha! A human! I knew it would be a human!”

                The other monster didn’t even look around. “Of course it’s another human. They’re all heading towards that light thing in the distance. Just let them go, the fewer humans here the better.”

                “But this one is with monsters.”

                She finally looked up, seeing for the first time the three of them there. She held the spear out at arm’s length. “What’s monsters doing, travelling with a human?”

                Toriel tapped Frisk on the shoulder. “We’re following Frisk. She feels a tug towards the light.”

                “Frisk?”

                Frisk nodded. This was strange. They hadn’t come across any other monsters in the months they had been travelling, more humans, certainly, but only dead monsters so far. These two seemed to be living well enough. She couldn’t say for sure about the tall skeleton but the blue female looked well fed at least. She was muscled too.

                The skeleton rubbed his chin with a red mitten. “Frisk. Humm that sounds like a name, doesn’t it ma’am? I mean, no other human has ever remembered a NAME before.” He looked at them hopeful, any aggression from before forgotten. “Say, you wouldn’t by chance have more names, would you?”

                “More names?” asked Frisk.

                “Well I sure would like a name. If you have one laying around that you’re not using.” The other one crossed her arms at this and turned half away. But she kept her good eye on them, as if she too were interested in a spare name they might have.

                Toriel and Sans looked at each other. Frisked cocked her head. Back when they had first met, Sans had suggested many names. But this skeleton was implying that they couldn’t remember any at all, just like Frisk when she had woke. Toriel bent and whispered something in Sans’ ear that she didn’t catch.

                Sans scratched his skull. “I might be able to find you your own name. But there is a condition.”

                The tall skeleton didn’t seem upset. “What’s that?” The blue woman rolled her eyes.

                “You guys have to come with us if we do.”

                “Wowie, travelling? That doesn’t seem so bad. What do you think ma’am?”

                “I’m not going anywhere with you freaks.”

                “Well gee, I gotta say I’m getting bored here. Humans won’t solve my puzzle and everyone keeps leaving towards the light. I’d sure like to see what it is.” He tapped his chin again. “Okay!” He grabbed his teddy bear, tied his blanket around his neck like a cape, and began to stomp off towards the light. “Come new friends, let’s go! I won’t wait a moment longer! Away from these ruins and its endless supply of fish in its underground river! So long!”

                The woman hissed at him, looking to Frisk and hoping she hadn’t heard the thing about the fish. The thought of meat made her drool, but she tried not to let that show. She wasn’t here for the meat after all, even if it did sound really good.

                Frisk giggled though. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

                The skeleton stopped. “Eh?”

                “Your name?’

                “Oh, right! So do you have an extra one then? I’d sure like to have a name of my own. Pretty sure I had one once but, I’ve forgotten it.”

                “You can’t remember any names.”

                “Well sure I do!”

                “You do?”

                “Yes! Frisk!”

                “That’s my name.”

                “And I can remember it!”

                Frisk leaned over to Sans. “I like this guy,”

                Sans grinned back. “Me too. Refreshingly honest, isn’t he?”

                Toriel, pressed against Sans’ back. “Go on. Read him. He deserves a name.” The blue woman harrumphed.

                “Yes, yes! A name! What do I need to do?”

                Sans stood in front of the taller skeleton, a bit nervous. “Um well, kneel down for starters. So I can reach you.”

                “Okie dokie!” He crouched on his heels.

                “Okay so all you have to do is let me into your soul. Concentrate your thoughts on who you are and I should be able to… read it.”

                “Done!”

                “Uh, okay.” Sans reached out, his expression fell from mild curiosity to outright surprise. Before his hand even toughed the skeletons’ chest, he blurted, “Papyrus.”

                Papyrus grabbed Sans’ hand and shook it up and down, rattling the smaller skeleton’s entire frame. His teeth chattered. “Yes! The Great and Powerful Papyrus! That’s my name! Wowie, wowie, it’s amazing.” He stood and enveloped Toriel and Frisk in a big hug. “I’m Papyrus! So nice to meet you, Toriel and Frisk!”

                “Wait I never told you my name,” Toriel said, astounded.

                “Oh! Sans told me, just now.”

                Sans shook his head. “No I didn’t. I didn’t tell him mine either!”

                “Come, ma’am! Let Sans find your name too! You’ll feel so much better! Go on, go on!”

                She however, did not seem to feel as gung ho about it as Papyrus did. “Oh no, I’m not letting anyone in here.” She tapped her chest. “Let people in, get hurt.”

                “Okay, suit yourself! Come on, let’s head out! Towards the light! I am The Great and Powerful Papyrus!” The other three giggled and began to follow Papyrus as he led the way out of the ruins, teddy bear perched on his shoulders.

                The other woman didn’t follow. Apparently, she wasn’t expecting to be left alone so suddenly like that. But Papyrus didn’t seem concerned. Frisk tapped him on the femur. “Shouldn’t you try to convince your friend to come with us?”

                “Don’t worry about her, she’s proud and probably a little scared too. She’ll follow us eventually, when she realises the desire to remember her name is more important than maybe getting hurt again.”

                “Again?”

                “She’s not sure of course, but she has this strong feeling that something happened with someone else in the before time. It hurts, even though she doesn’t know what it is.”

                Sure enough they heard her shout. “Wait! Wait, I’m coming.” She had several large fish speared onto her makeshift weapon. She didn’t look them in the eyes as she caught up with them.

                “Are you ready to find out what your name is?” Sans asked.

                She pouted. “No. Not yet.”

                He shrugged. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

 

…

 

                It was days before the toothed blue lady was ready to find out her name, and even then, it was not easy.

                First, she insisted they do it in the dark. She wasn’t sure why, but the darkness was important, so she said. Frisk, Papyrus and Toriel set up a defensive perimeter around a blazing bonfire they had thrown together from the dead trees scattered around. The fire would draw some people for sure, but it would also keep people away. No one wanted to seriously approach a fire that big in a place where solitary survival seemed to rein. Frisk held her sword in hand, ready, still unsure how she had summoned it. Papyrus was opposite her with the blue woman’s spear (he had been warned that his bone projectiles wouldn’t hurt a wolf, should they approach) And Toriel held constant fistfuls of fire.

                Out in the open with flat ground all around them, the pillar of light off in the distance, everyone readied themselves, but no one expected just how long it was going to take. The woman sat, scowling and cross-legged, with the fire at her side. Sans kneeled in front of her.

                “You don’t have to, but it might be easier if you close your eyes.” He reached out to her.

                “Hold up, what are you doing?”

                Sans flexed his fingers. “I have to… you know… make contact.”

                “You didn’t have to do that for the other guy.”

                “Papyrus had no problem letting me in. I can already feel you being all…” he struggled to find the right word to describe something only felt in his soul. “Walled in,” he finished finally.

                Blushing purple, she closed her eyes. “Fine. Just do it, okay?”

                Sans nodded, placed his hand, palm open, on her chest, just above her heart. “No funny business,” she muttered. Sans decided not to respond.

                His chest began to glow blue, he closed his eyes. The woman’s soul flickered like a faulty lightbulb, unwilling participant to the intrusion. The woman gritted her teeth and pressed on. She felt a pressure on her heart. Sans’ expression turned sour as his browns knit together. “You’re resisting.”

                “No, I’m not.”

                The pressure increased, she grunted. “Yes you are. Let me in.”

                “I… I don’t know how to do that!” she admitted.

                “Just, open up. Let go. All that junk.” 

                “I am! I AM!” The pain increased, changing from a pressure to a jabbing feeling. “You’re gonna poke right throw me!” The feeling abated a little bit, but only for a moment. It slowly increased again. “Stop, you have to stop!”

                Sans tried to remove his hand, but it was as if he was glued to her chest. He couldn’t detach. “I can’t. We have to wait it out till the end.”

                “The end of what?!” she cried. She grabbed his wrist, tried to physically pull him off. “I can’t let go! I’m not ready! I’m NOT ready!”

                “It’s too late! Just… stop thinking about it. Concentrate on who you are.”

                Wolves howled in the stance. Frisk threw a few more sticks onto the fire, making the blaze jump. She tried to ignore the discouraging noises coming from the other side of the fire. The blue woman was obviously having a hard time letting Sans in to read her soul.

                Frisk couldn’t see them, but she could sense them prowling just outside of the firelight. They had closed the distance between then very quickly. “Why did she want to do this at night?” asked Toriel.

                “She said the darkness was important to her. She didn’t know why.” She waved her soul sword threateningly at the darkness, trying to keep the wolves at bay.

                The woman grunted. The pain increased. “Why is it hurting?!”

                “It’s in your head, there’s no real pain.”

                “Bullshit! This fucking hurts! Stop, damn it!” she was beginning to panic.

                “I CAN’T. Look, your soul wants this. It’s your mind that’s holding you back.”

                “Stop, stop!” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

                “Concentrate on your memories!”

                “I don’t HAVE any!” she wept.

                “Yes, you do! They’re IN there somewhere. Just… let them out.” Sweat rolled down his forehead, he began to sway. This spell was taxing and it was taking its toll on his body.

                A wolf, horribly misshapen and hungry, leapt out of the darkness towards the pair only to meet the end of Frisks’ sword. Unaware, the two connected figures never stirred, oblivious of the battle raging around them

                Papyrus ran his spear through one. It collapsed to the ground, gurgling around the shaft in its throat. But it didn’t die; it didn’t turn to dust until Frisk touched it with her sword. “How you don’ over there, Tori?” she shouted.

                “Got two. I’m okay though.” The wolves didn’t like the flames in her hands and she had enough experience holding them back, but she knew she couldn’t defeat them like Frisk could. But while Toriel was okay, Frisk would focus on other areas. She rolled her ankle, working out its kinks, and carried on.

                “I don’t want to!” The woman cried. “I don’t want to do this anymore, it hurts too much!” She pressed on his chest, trying to push him away, she only succeed in tipping them both over. She tried to get up, but Sans somehow removed his hand and wrapped it around her in a tight hug. Their chests touched, their souls mere inches from each other. Tears fell onto his chin, his or hers he couldn’t say.

                The close contact, the hug, the sheer strength of his soul… she didn’t know what did it. But she could take the pain no longer, she collapsed, indulged in the intimate hug… and let go.

                Sans’ eyes shot open, light flooded the area, blinding, driving off the wolves. Memories, so strong and powerful they were nearly crystal clear in his mind, engulfed him. He understood…  understood the tears and the pain.

                He found her name. Then he found another. And another. He found hundreds of names. People, monsters… souls. He watched, transfixed, heartbroken, as he saw the woman’s hand pulled from someone else’s, their two souls twisted apart into a swirling vortex of confusion, of agony, of horrible loss. He watched as her and countless others crashed down to a barren land, making little craters, everything forgotten, nothing but the pain in its place. The pain, her pain, Undyne’s pain, was not unique. Each and every one of them had suffered it, had forgotten it. But Undyne had held onto it like a lifeboat, hoping maybe that the memory of pain would bring back the memory of love. In some strange way she had been right, the pain was a path that led to her memories. Through her, Sans could find the answers to it all. He drank in more, more memories…

                Frisk couldn’t see. The fire had been blasted out, the wolves had run off in the onslaught of the light pulse. Papyrus helped Toriel get up. “What’s going on?” He yelled, a wind knocking the words from his mouth as soon as they left.

                Toriel shook her head. “He’s going too far!” She shouted “Too far, too fast! Look!” The woman’s head was thrown back; somehow they had gotten back into a kneeling position. Light poured form her eyes and mouth like something alive. If Frisk looked too hard she could see shapes moving it.

                Frisk tried to separate them to no avail. Papyrus and Toriel tried to as well, but the two were locked in a sharing of souls, they wouldn’t part. Frisk closed her eyes, tried to concentrate on her own soul, tried to use it to get in between the two like Sans would have. She could manifest her heart into a flaming sword that turned grey soul-eating wolves to dust, but this was a power she just didn’t have.

                She felt the tiniest little tug on her heart. Like someone reminding her that he was there. Asriel could help. She opened herself and sweet little Asriel, tiny and practically invisible in the light, slipped in between Sans and the woman.

                Gently, in only the way a child can manage, their souls separated, exhausted. The glow faded, Sans and the woman collapsed apart to the ground. Toriel went immediately to Sans, Frisk, after making sure that Asriel had retreated back and unseen into her chest, went to look at the woman. Her hair had come undone, spilled around her in a bright red river. Light blinked on and off behind an eyepatch that had come loose. She was covered in sweat, crying, and staring at the sky. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold on… I’m so sorry!” she wept openly.

                Frisk tucked the woman’s hair behind her long, fin-like ear, trying to sooth her. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. Look, here we are. We’re together.”

                “No,” she cried, looking Frisk right in the eyes, “she’s not here.”

                “Who?”

                “I don’t know.”

                Frisk helped her to stand. The woman shook her head, Papyrus, slung an arm under her shoulder. Her legs were shaking.

                “Frisk,” Toriel said, concerned and weary. The blast from the souls had extinguished their fire. Even though the glow of dawn showed on the horizon, all they wanted was to find shelter. “Frisk it’s Sans, he’s not waking up.” She had picked him up, held him in her arms. The lights in his eyes were out, he wasn’t asleep… his eyes were open.

                “Give him time,” she said comforting words that she didn’t feel. “He’s probably seen a lot. Let’s find some shelter.”

               

…

 

                Toriel was very protective of Sans as they walked. Frisk couldn’t blame her. They had bonded so much over the past year. Frisk was certain that Sans would pull out of this, but Toriel had the fear of a mother in her. Eventually, after a few days of walking and her arms aching, she asked Papyrus for his blanket. She swaddled Sans and strapped him to her back in the same fashion as she had Asriel, but with his face cuddled close to her shoulder so she could keep an eye on him.

                She said he was cold, even though the sun beat on them and burned their skin. So far, the blue woman had said little, but kept giving Sans desperate little glances. She still couldn’t remember her own name, was certain Sans would know it when he woke.

                They travelled in subdued silence for nearly a week. The pillar of light was looming ever closer, the tug on her heart was so strong, Frisk could have closed her eyes and walked to the pillar no problem. They all needed a break, needed a chance to sit back and heal and relax a little. They were nearly in as catatonic a state as Sans.

                So it was that they nearly missed the house all together. Frisk felt a tiny, desperate tug, so out of keeping with the regular tug that she blinked and looked around. It was almost smack in front of her, a huge farm house! Sure the white paint was peeling, the picket fence had fallen mostly to the ground and the green gabled roof was almost faded completely brown but… it was intact. Frisk made a little noise and the others looked up.

                There was something… cathartic about walking up its steps and into its dust free hallway. Its kitchen, although empty of food, was completely intact, complete with a wood burning stove. Toriel ran her hand along it lovingly, no doubt thinking of all the things she could cook there. The blue woman poked her head in through the back door.

                “There’s a river back there. About half a mile. Looks like its got fish in it.”

                Papyrus and Frisk explored no less than three floors of bedrooms, simple beds covered in crisp white linens and pillows. Considering they had all slept on the ground (and often times each other, to keep warm) for the past year and then some the beds looked like heaven. A breeze blew through the whole place, rustling sheer white curtains. It was amazing… how was it that no one was living here? There was dust on the counters and over the furniture in the sitting room, but it was normal dust, not the grey stuff of the outside.

                It was as if this house had been plucked from some sleepy part of the world and just… dropped here, full and complete and inviting.

                Toriel picked a room off of the kitchen and laid Sans down in the bed. The breeze blew in; he sighed and finally… closed his eyes. He slept. Toriel let out a little sigh of relief.

                The little heart in Frisk’s chest fluttered happily. Asriel liked it here.

                They stayed here for some time, the atmosphere was almost happy. Almost. The pillar of light loomed in the near distance. A day’s hike, maybe a little more, and they would find it.

                Frisk was aware of someone watching them. The human that she suspected had been following them for so long. But they still made no move and came no closer, so Frisk continued to ignore them.

                Sans finally woke, looking groggy but whole, and happily gulped down some fresh fish fried in an old, cast iron pan. Toriel doted on him, he smiled at her.

                “Frisk, this place is like a dream. Why don’t we just stay here?”

                “I’ll consider it, after I find out what the pillar is all about.” Sans nodded, not asking if anyone else wanted any fish. He was ravenous. Frisk just smiled. “So, do… you remember her name?”

                Sans paused, a fish tale hanging out of his mouth. He swallowed. “Yeah. I remember. Where is she?”

                “Here.” The woman stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, not looking at him. She had been waiting a long, long time for her name. But more importantly, she was hoping that he remembered someone else’s’ too…

                “You ready?”

                “Yeah.”

                “You’re name is Undyne.”

                “Undyne?”

                “If I remember right, it’s Undyne the Undying, actually.”

                She smiled, shook her head. “Yeah. Yeah. That feels right.” She pulled at her hair. “Look, Sans do… do you… remember…”

                He shrugged. “Bits and pieces. Things I don’t understand just yet.” Undyne nodded, but didn’t pursue. She couldn’t bring herself to ask directly. Her hands shook slightly.

                Frisk patted Sans’ good shoulder happy to see him awake and eating. She left the room, and soon Papyrus made an excuse to leave as well. Toriel pretended to have washing to put out on the line (of which they had neither) and after kissing Sans on top of his skull, left as well.

                So it was that Sans and Undyne were alone. He didn’t notice until he looked up to find her right in his face. He slurped down the last of his fish, bones and all.

                “You saw a lot of shit, in here.” She tapped her chest. He nodded.

                “I… I can’t handle that right now but… did you…” Her hands were clenched into fists, shaking.

                He reached out and patted her hand. “I saw her.”

                Undyne’s lips trembled.

                “Do you… remember her name?”

                “Alphys. Her name is Alphys.”

                She put her head to the table, unable to stop the tears. Sans held her hand and let her cry. “Of course it is. That’s her name.” Then she clenched his hand so hard, it almost hurt. “You said…is. Not was. Alphys is her name.”

                “I uh,” he scratched his temple. “I think she’s out there somewhere.”

                She took a deep breath. “I have to find her.”

                “In a couple of days, we’ll talk about it. Right now, we have to find out what the pillar of light is. We’ve been travelling to it for over a year. We can’t stop now.”

 

                Two days later, with a day’s worth of dust on their clothes, they slowly approached the pillar of light. From this distance, it truly appeared to be nothing special. They could see it during the day now, the light was so strong here. The pillar travelled off into the sky, so high they couldn’t see the end of it.

                None of the monsters felt the tug, but obviously Frisk could. She was staring at it without blinking, in awe. The tug was all around her, all THROUGH her. This was it. This is what she had come for.

                There was nothing but a pure white marble arch leading to the light. Next to the arch stood a man all aflame. He watched them approach without much care. He held a clipboard, he wore what looked like an old, faded vest and pin stripped shirt. It was clean, but old and worn. His wing tipped shoes were scuffed, and his glasses (which Frisk noticed when he tried to adjust them) were cracked a little.

                The light of his red flame was overpowered by the pure white light of the pillar. Frisk felt peace flowing from it like wind, could almost watch as the breeze picked up and blew it across the empty expanse. That’s why the house felt so nice, it had been filled with the scent of this pillar.

                Mesmerised, she stepped up to the arch and pillar, before a flaming hand reached out, and stopped her. “I’m sorry,” he said as if he really wasn’t very sorry. “But you can’t take it with you.”

                “Hmm? What?” She turned. The others, her monster friends, had stopped some paces behind. They seemed unable to approach in fact. It was as if a barrier blocked their way. Sans was shouting at her, but she couldn’t hear him. Confused, she looked at the flaming man.

                “Are you a monster?”

                He shrugged. “I suppose.”

                “What’s with the pillar? How come my friends can’t get any closer?”

                “They are monsters.”

                “You’re here, though.”

                “I guess they allow one passed the barrier.”

                “How come I can’t take them with me? Where’s the pillar lead?”

                He sighed and raised a hand. “Before you lies the path. The end to your suffering. The life eternal, the paradise everlasting.”

                “You’re telling me that heaven lies at the top of that pillar of light?”

                “Indeed.” He sounded bitter.

                She took another step forward, but was stopped again by the flaming man. “I said you can’t take it with you.”

                “Take what?”

                He tapped her chest, Asriel’s heart fluttered. She felt fear from him. “What happens to him, if I leave him here?”

                “What happens to all monsters, I suppose.”

                “My friends,” she turned to look at them. They in turn watched her wearily, unable to hear what was happening. “are good, honest people. They all deserve to be in heaven. Are you telling me that they can’t go, because they are monsters?”

                “Heaven is for humans.”

                She thought of all the poor monsters who had woken up (or not woken up) in this awful place. Struggling to find their way, maybe even coming all the way here… just to be told there would be no end to their suffering. They were so lucky to have Sans, who could read them and tell them their names. But the rest… if they survived… had to wander this barren place, unable to recall their name or any name at all for that matter.

                Her musings were interrupted by someone stepping around her. She stared as the human who had been following them all this time walked passed her, smile on their face, and into the light. They disappeared amidst a sound of holy voices. Frisk stared, dumbstruck.

                “That person got in to heaven? They left me to die at the bottom of a crater… after stealing my food!”

                The flaming man shrugged. “It’s not about being good or bad. It’s about being human. Humans get to go to heaven. Monsters get to stay here.”

                “So they just get to go?! After being an awful person, but my friends, the best damn people in the world, have to stay here? Mourning their dead sons and and and… lost arms… and forgotten memories?”

                He shrugged. “Look are you going or not? I’d like to say I don’t have all day but,” he shrugged. “That would be a lie.”

                Frisk looked back.  The others were confused but Sans… Sans had figured it out. Maybe he’d known since he had read Undyne’s soul. She felt her heart break… he had come here with her anyway, knowing that he might be saying goodbye. He knew he couldn’t pass the barrier, knew he couldn’t follow her up to heaven.

                Asriel fluttered in her chest. She took a deep breath and looked back up the pillar. She couldn’t imagine leaving her friends behind. Friends who had become loved ones, friends who had suffered and fought with her… all because of a little tug in her heart, a tug they couldn’t feel.

                If she left them, they might never figure out what this place was all about. If she left, maybe the wolves would get them and eat all of their souls... Asriel fluttered again, reminding her that he was there. There had been some good times along with all of the pain, some laughter.

                “Well?” Said the flaming man.

                She smiled at him. “Say, ever curious about what your name is?”

                “My name?”

                “Yeah. I’m Frisk by the way.”

                “That sounds like a real name.”

                “It is.”

                There was a hope in his eyes then. A spark. The tug in her heart faded until only Asriel was there, happily urging her back in the direction of her friends. The look in his eyes as hope brought back a little life to him made Frisk sure she was making the right decision.

                “Look, those are my friends. Do you know the big farmhouse? The one about a day south of here?”

                “Y-yeah. I saw it.”

                “Come with us. My friend, Sans. He can read your soul if you want. He can find your name.”

                “My name?”

                “Believe me, when you know who you are.” She shrugged. “You’ll be a lot happier.”

                He tossed his clipboard to the ground, and followed her out. Sans hugged her when she came back, his one arm tightening around her so firmly that she suspected he was hiding tears in her shirt. Toriel patted her arm.

                “So? What’s the pillar for?”

                “Ah,” Frisk waved it off. “It’s a portal to heaven for humans. It’s no place for us.”

                Toriel smiled, Undyne bounced on the balls of her feet, eager to be off again.

                “Who’s your friend?” Sans asked, winking.

                “I don’t know. Come on new friend. When we get back to the farm house, we’ll figure out your name.” Eagerly, the flaming man followed them, not caring if some human came along unsure what to think of the pillar.

                “Move the fuck along already,” Undyne growled, impatient. “I have to find Alphys.”

                “Yeah.” said Frisk, patting her chest and enjoying the happy warm feeling from Asriel, who seemed more than happy to be on their way. “We have a lot of work to do, I think.”


End file.
